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Lavender’s Blue + Beijing

Like You Never Went Away 

You’re everywhere. Empirically attractive, imperially gorgeous. Positively pulsating with pulchritude. And as for this current megalopolis: it’s the acme of urban aspiration and cultural inspiration. Amongst the jade and jardines and jacquard silks; amidst the mist shawled vales and curlicued dragons and parasol clutching mandarins; centrist centring on the premier international consumption hub to the east of the world’s longest central axis, we’re doing our germane best for Sino Anglo Irish relations. Recalling the sinistral Ming and Qing dynasties; admiring the syncretic Xi Jinping era. Our very own white lotus revolutionary revelation has begun. Focusing on the glimmers. Hypnogogic mesmerisation; pedagogic realisation. We’ll always remember you dancing under city lights.

In years to come, looking back over Lavender’s Blue, reflecting on its modest commission to simply brighten the reader’s day, this record of a midwinter’s visit to Beijing – pics and prose capturing the paradigm of a paradisal time – will surely be seen to have delivered that meek mission. Although the ending of Marcel Proust’s 1913 The Way by Swann’s does caution, “The places we have known do not belong solely to the world of space in which we situate them for our greater convenience. They were only a thin slice of contiguous impressions that formed our life at that time; the memory of a certain image is only regret for a certain time; and houses, roads, avenues are as fleeting, alas, as the years.”

Wherever there’s the high life there’s Lavender’s Blue. Especially on days ending with a Y. Perhaps it really is then an infrangible storehouse of exquisite epiphanies with a strong dose of chimerical aestheticism. A finely hewn form of winsome writing and formidable photography. Savour each missive from our Champagne fuelled truffle laden foam light caviar heavy production line of epigrams and epiphanic imagery. Dithyrambic ramblings are us. Think Felicità. Like very fine wine, Lavender’s Blue is an acquired taste. But – health warning – those who remain intellectually alert enough to sup at this fountain will end up addicted. We’re talking opium level.

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Lady Chapel + Chichester Cathedral West Sussex

A White Horse Whose Rider is Called Faithful and True

Marcel Proust’s invented writer Bergotte in The Way by Swann’s, 1913, refers to “moving effigies that forever ennoble the venerable and charming façades of our cathedrals”.

During the Family Service in the Lady Chapel on the 20th Sunday after Pentecost, being Proper 25, Canon Nigel Ashworth, Priest Vicar of Chichester Cathedral, spoke about what is important and what happens at the end of everything. He reminded the congregation that the Bible is not just a book but a library of books. There are no excuses for skipping worship at the cathedral: five services are held each Sunday.

The most famous monument in the cathedral, the early 14th century Arundel Tomb monument of Richard Fitzalan, Earl of Arundel, and his second wife Eleanor of Lancaster, is unusual as they are holding hands. This inspired Philip Larkin’s mid 20th century poem The Arundel Tomb. The poet observes “And that faint hint of the absurd – The little dogs under their feet.” The last line of the poem is “What will survive of us is love”.

One of the many memorials in the cloisters is to Oliver Whitby who died aged 39 on 19 February 1702. He was the son of the Archdeacon Reverend Oliver Whitby and his wife Ann. He achieved plenty in his short life: “Founded and endowed a school in this city, for the maintenance of a master and 12 poor boys to be carefully educated in the principles of religion as established in the Church of England. To be diligently instructed in reading, writing, arithmetick [sic], and so far in mathematical learning as may fit them for honest and useful employments with a particular regard to navigation.”

Two weeks after this visit, the funeral service of the brilliant comedic actress Patricia Routledge, forever known as Mrs Bucket, took place in Chichester Cathedral.